Chapter 71
The morning air tasted like late spring—brisk but warm, heavy with the scent of blooming trees and freshly cut grass. Birds chirped from the power lines above the precinct’s parking lot, their chatter almost rhythmic over the hum of city traffic in the distance. Mark stood outside for a moment with his coffee and cigarette, savoring the quiet before the chaos. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Ronnie: Remember, we leave at 3. Don’t be late. And wear something nice, not your “cop clothes.” Mark chuckled, texting back. Mark: You love my cop clothes. They’re how I lured you in. Ronnie: No. The cop clothes were how I figured out you were insufferable. The arms were how you got a second chance. He smirked to himself, pocketed the phone, and headed inside. The bullpen was buzzing with the
- Writer
